


The Colour Of Your Nightmares

by AdamantSteve



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Interior Decorating, M/M, Team Bonding, clint has bad taste, curtainfic, or does he?, phil has good taste, through secret decorating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 02:25:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/pseuds/AdamantSteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Phil's first apartment together throws up some interior decoration issues: Clint's personal taste is... not really compatible with Phil's. </p><p>Phil wants a nice, tasteful apartment but also a happy boyfriend. Can those two things co-exist?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Colour Of Your Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> For the 'curtainfic' square on my Trope Bingo card. Someone (I'm sorry! I forget who it was) suggested I write about them decorating their apartment and it turned into Clint's Mystery Room!
> 
> Beta read by [Dunicha](http://dunicha.tumblr.com)

Phil stifled a groan when he saw Clint dart towards the paint chip display. They'd already agreed on paint colours - a nice rich taupey grey for the bedroom, a soft teal for the living room and a warm pale yellow for the kitchen. They must have had at least one of each of the paint chips Clint was pulling out now. He turned and fixed Phil with one of his best puppydog expressions. "Phil, look how pretty," he said, brandishing a deep magenta shade at him. 

 

"It is pretty," Phil said patiently, "but when it's all over a wall it'd get pretty oppressive pretty fast." 

Clint sighed and slumped his shoulders. "I _know_ ," he said, rolling his eyes. Clint put the paint chip in his pocket anyway and they moved on.

 

Clint's taste ran between boringly basic and elaborately tasteless. He marvelled at the chandeliers in the lighting section every time they passed it and fawned over gaudy finials and toilet seats. If they couldn't get the fanciest version of whatever it was (door handles that looked like hands and cost $200 a piece) he wasn't interested and would plump for whatever was the cheapest. "Go big or go home," was apparently his mantra with such things. And, well, that didn't really work for Phil. 

 

They’d just signed the lease on a new apartment - it was almost two years since Clint had moved into Phil’s rather meagre old one, so they decided to find somewhere bigger together. Phil loved him, there was no doubt about that. But Clint had just about the worst taste of anyone he'd ever met. They were going to be living together, so it had to be a compromise, but Phil couldn't, just _couldn't_ live in a bright purple apartment. 

 

He watched Clint idly spin taps in the bathroom section, not even bothering to point out which ones he liked (the gold ones with diamantes probably) and sighed. He looked at the assortment of tasteful, aesthetically pleasing yet not _showy_ bathroom accessories (‘we don’t need a light-up showerhead, Clint’) and suddenly felt like a bit of a jerk. Phil had gone through the phases, the Captain America wallpaper in his childhood bedroom that was painted black during a very brief and regrettable goth phase (which Clint though was hilarious), the unfortunate green he’d painted his first apartment, the carpet in the bathroom... Clint had gone from orphanage to the circus to being constantly on the move, then into the army and SHIELD, neither of which offered much opportunity for decorative experimentation. Yeah, maybe he was being kind of an ass. 

 

"Clint," he began, and Clint looked over with the most hangdog expression on his face. Phil had never felt more like he was dating a sullen teen. "We didn't figure out anything for the spare room yet. If... if you want you could take it," even as he said it he was envisioning some horrific monstrosity, but Clint's face was lighting up. "And I won't veto any of your decisions." 

"Really?" Clint said, a doubtful grin spreading across his face. "Sure," Phil shrugged. He could do this. 

"What if I wanna paint it 'the colour of your nightmares'?" 

Phil pursed his lips. "You can paint it whatever colour you want." 

"Fluroescent orange."

"Sure." 

"Black." 

"...Fine." 

"Wallpaper with Tony Stark's face all over it."

Phil rolled his eyes and laughed. "I'd love it." 

 

Clint grinned and pecked him on the cheek before running off to the paint section. "You won't regret this Phil!" he called out over his shoulder. Phil wasn't so sure.

 

-

 

The spare room was actually the second bedroom, but since they only really needed the one, they’d not come up with any use for it yet. Phil decided to leave it entirely in Clint’s hands. If he had his own way, it’d be a library cum study, but he was pretty sure Clint had other ideas. 

 

“I’m happy to help, you know,” Phil told him, but Clint just grinned and told him off for trying to spy. “I don’t see why it has to be a big secret.” 

“Because you’ll make me paint it grey like the stupid living room.”

Phil sighed, since there were at least three things incorrect about that statement and he didn’t want to rise to the bait. “I’m just saying if you need another pair of hands.”

“Nope!”

Phil laughed as Clint kissed him on the nose before bouncing off the plastic covered couch and back into the spare room. Soon after the door closed, the stereo was switched on and Clint loudly sang along to it while Phil got ready for dinner.

 

-

 

Phil wasn’t allowed to help, but apparently, other avengers were. Phil answered the door to find Tony Stark of all people, walking into their apartment in overalls with a step ladder. “Are you union certified?” he asked, stepping aside and taking in the sight. 

“Pleasure to see you too, Agent. Where’s your better half?” 

Phil nodded towards the door that Clint was currently screeching Backstreet Boys from. “Awesome,” Tony replied before leaning back and calling down the stairs, “C’mon up guys!” 

“Guys?” Phil craned his head out the door to see the back of Bruce Banner’s head coming up the stairs, carrying something that looked like a couch. 

“No!” Clint yelped, suddenly behind Phil and pulling him away and shutting the door. “You go to the bedroom and don’t look. I’ll tell you when you can come back out, ok?” 

“Clint, c’mon, this is silly.”

“ _No_ ,” Clint whined. “It’s meant to be a surprise.” 

“Why?”

“It just is ok? Stop being difficult.” 

Phil had to laugh at Clint using his own favoured phrase against him. Tony stood there looking questioningly at them. Someone knocked at the door. “Can we come in?” said a voice that sounded a lot like Steve Rogers’. Phil looked wide eyed at Clint. “What? He’s helping too. Go! Bedroom!” 

 

It was testament to just how much Phil loved Clint that he stayed there til they were done moving very heavy sounding things around the apartment, even when he could hear Tony and Clint both loudly exclaiming right outside the door just how _strong_ Steve was and how impressive his muscles were. 

 

When he was allowed out of the thankfully finished bedroom where he’d read and done a little work of his own, he studied their hands for traces of paint, since he still didn’t know what colour Clint had chosen. He assumed it would be a lurid shade of magenta, but so far there was no evidence of it. There was no evidence of any other colour though, so he had no idea. 

 

“Great choice on the orange, Clint,” Tony said as they sat at the perhaps too-large dining table in the (exactly large enough) kitchen. “Yeah, the green really sets it off,” Bruce said, picking up on the joke. “I think the black stripes add a nice touch,” Steve added, and Phil glared at each of them in turn. “You’re all horrible people.” 

Clint grinned at him and Phil softened. Even if it was a neon nightmare, it would be worth it for a few more easy grins like that. 

 

-

 

“Really not going to tell me anything about it?” Phil asked in their tasteful, high-thread-count-sheeted bed later. Clint looked ridiculously pleased with himself. “Nope.” 

Phil levelled his own best puppydog eyes at Clint, who scoffed and pulled Phil’s book from his hands. “I have ways of making you talk, you know,” Phil said, following Clint’s movements as he put the book on the nightstand so he was looming over him. 

“I’ve been trained to withstand, like, fifty different kinds of torture, Phil.”

“I know. I taught you.” Phil rucked up Clint’s shirt and started kissing him on the chest and down his stomach, savouring his warm skin. 

“Yeah, well,” was all Clint managed in reply.

“Hmm?” replied Phil, palming Clint’s interested cock. “This guy seems like he’s volunteering information.” 

Clint gasped. “You’re a bad man, Coulson.” 

“Hmm.” Phil agreed as he pulled down Clint’s underwear when he lifted his hips, pressing kisses to the skin that was revealed. 

 

Phil still didn’t find out anything about the spare room.

 

-

 

“You too?” Phil cried in dismay the following weekend when Pepper appeared at the door. She smiled brightly and shrugged, pecking him on the cheek as she stepped past. 

“Hey Pep!” Clint greeted. “Thanks for doing this.”

“Doing what?” Phil asked. They both laughed at him and Phil shook his head. “You’re supposed to be _my_ friend. And you’re conspiring against me?” 

Clint curled his arms around him and kissed him on the ear. “Quit complaining.”

 

When Pepper stepped into the room, Phil heard something like a screech before the door was closed. He couldn’t tell if the subsequent laughter was genuine or just another part of their evil evil plans.

 

-

 

Weeks passed and Phil still had no idea what was happening to the spare room. A few times, Clint sent Phil out ‘to play’ with Sitwell and some of the other agents, and he’d come home to find the place smelling strange or a fine layer of dust everywhere. Clint refused to tell him anything whatsoever, no matter how elaborate Phil’s ‘interrogation techniques’ became. 

The little Clint let on gave Phil the idea that it was no longer appropriate to label it as ‘the spare room’, and he took to asking Clint every time he thought of some other type of room it could be. 

 

“Is it a really big bathroom?” Phil asked, mindful of the great big whirlpool bathtubs Clint kept pushing for before settling on a huge claw foot tub that Clint had actually conceded was pretty cool. 

“Maybe.”

“ _Maybe_? Is that what that guy was? A plumber?”

There had been a few outsider contractors that had apparently been sworn to the same level of secrecy as everyone else, but rather than giving Phil any great clues they merely added to the mystery. 

“Couldn’t tell you,” Clint replied, leaning back on the couch and putting his feet on the coffee table. Phil almost told him off before noticing that actually, he didn’t have his shoes on.

“Indoor swimming pool.”

“Not telling.” 

“A fountain? Like a garden with a fountain in it?” 

“Indoors?” 

“I don’t know!”

“That’s a good idea, actually.” 

Phil sighed dramatically and slumped back on the couch. Clint looked over and grinned. “Are you excited?”

“I’m apprehensive,” Phil answered truthfully. He’d thought that Clint would just paint the walls purple and rig up an Xbox and be done with it, not recreate It’s A Small World (an earlier guess). 

“Don’t worry, you’ll love it.”

“Hmm.”

“You gotta work on your trust issues,” Clint said mildly, and Phil levelled a look that had Clint giggling and then yelping when Phil lunged in to tickle him.

 

-

 

“It’s almost done,” Clint told him one evening, and it had been so long that Phil had almost given up hope of ever finding out what had become of the spare room.

“Am I going to get to see it?” 

“I guess.”

“You’ve enjoyed teasing me so much over it I thought it’d never be finished.”

“Teasing you?” Clint asked, spreading a hand over his chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Of course you don’t,” Phil agreed, reaching for the TV remote and shortly finding himself with a lapful of boyfriend. 

“Is it some sort of sex room?” Phil asked, nipping Clint’s earlobe. Clint shivered in his arms. “You got me. I had Captain America help build us a sex room.” 

 

-

 

The day finally came for the big reveal, and Phil half expected the entire team to be there to see his reaction, but it was just Clint, quietly blindfolding Phil with a tie and shhing him when he said it really must be a sex room before leading him in and sitting him down on something squishy. 

 

“Ready?”

Phil bit his lip in anticipation. “Yes?” 

“Oh we can just wait til tomorrow...”

“No!” Phil cried, and Clint laughed before pulling off the blindfold.

 

The first thing he saw was a huge painting, maybe eight feet across and six high. Bright green and pink blurs abstractly played across a white void, oil paint thick and heavy in places with the canvas almost showing through in others. Phil loved it. He’d loved it when he’d seen it in a gallery with Pepper a few months ago. Before he could remark on it his attention was diverted to the wall around it, in a deep, rich magenta shade that actually complimented the painting perfectly. He was about to comment on _that_ when he saw the wall adjoining it, which was entirely lined with dark wood bookcases with a cosy windowseat beneath the window. 

 

“Do you hate it?” Clint asked, his mouth twisted to the side in regret. 

“No!” Phil reached out to grab Clint’s hand and pull him towards the, wow, really nice... ottoman? he was sitting on. “Sorry it’s just a lot to take in. The painting’s amazing.”

“Yeah?” 

“Beautiful. And the books!” 

Phil got up to look closer, the books neatly arranged for some reason in colour order, with spaces on the shelves for little displays of nicknacks; Clint’s stuffed crow he refused to part with and Phil’s vintage Cap figurines nestled in amongst the books. 

“I got ‘em out of storage, I was really careful,” Clint promised, and Phil turned to look at him with all the love he felt in his heart and then properly noticed the couch that was beneath the painting. It was huge and bright, a gaudy, intricate pattern of colours that somehow managed to work with the magenta walls and the great big painting instead of clashing, tempered by the deep wood of the floor and big black velvet pillows. 

 

Clint was still chewing his lips and Phil rushed back to take his hands. “It’s amazing!”

“Phil you don’t have to pretend-” 

“I’m not! C’mon walk me through it. What is that?”

He pointed at the large mirror on the wall opposite the painting that had what looked like an old sideboard underneath it, painted black. “You’re gonna hate it.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“You _promise_?!” 

Phil paused. “... Sure.”

Clint grinned excitedly and clapped twice - he’d been desperate to get a clapper and Phil rolled his eyes. The lighting dimmed (Phil noticing the actually kind of nice chandelier) and the mirror suddenly turned into a TV screen at the same time as the front of the sideboard thing slowly opened to reveal nine different cubby-holes containing what Phil was pretty sure were games consoles. 

 

“See, they’re all neat and tidy, Tony helped fix it up so they’re wireless,” Clint explained, pressing something on the arm of the couch which had it opening up to display a range of different controllers. Phil came over to take a seat and drink in the view from that angle, putting an arm around Clint as he idly ran around Vice City for a few moments. “But look!” Clint cried after a moment, jumping up to open the bottom portion of the sideboard thing to reveal a fully stocked bar. 

Phil laughed. “We have a kitchen not nine feet away!” 

Clint wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, I may have let Tony sway me with this. But look!” He pressed something and the bar began to glow different colours, which had them both snorting with laughter. “Well then, that’s gotta stay,” Phil declared. 

 

“So um, there’s another chair but it didn’t come yet, for the _library_ ,” Clint said, gesturing towards an empty space near the shelves, “and Steve wanted to do something for the other wall but it’s not finished yet.”

Phil had thought the other wall seemed curiously empty. “What is it?” 

“I don’t know!” Clint replied, clearly excited to find out himself. 

Phil walked over to Clint and pulled him into his arms, going where Clint steered them til they were sitting on the window seat looking down over the city. 

“I figured you could sit here and read while I play videogames or whatever.”

“That sounds nice.” 

The happy energy brimming under the surface of Clint’s grin was delicious, and Phil leaned in to softly kiss him. “It’s perfect. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you more. I thought it was going to be horrible.”

“I know you did.”

“It’s not horrible at all.”

“Even the ‘colour of your nightmares?’”

“Even the colour of my nightmares.”

Grinning, Phil cupped Clint’s face to kiss him. 

 

“The couch turns into a bed, by the way. For guests and stuff,” Clint said, face slightly squished in Phil’s hands.

“Oh that’s nice,” Phil murmured as he pressed in for another kiss. 

“Or when you make me sleep on the couch.”

“I never would.” 

“Or I make _you_ sleep on it.” Phil pouted and Clint just raised his eyebrows. “You never know.” 

Phil closed his eyes and smiled as he leaned his forehead against his wonderful, perfect weirdo of a boyfriend. 

 

“So what were the contractors for?” 

“Oh mostly carpentry stuff. There are like, eight guns hidden in this book case,” Clint said, knocking on the wood with a knuckle. 

“No water features?”

“No,” Clint replied, sticking out his tongue. 

 

“It’s really amazing, Clint. I love it.”

“Yeah?” 

Phil nodded. “Wanna try out the guest bed?”

Clint leaned in for a grinning kiss. “But of course.”

 

-

 

They had a ‘spare room’ warming party the following day, though it had since been christened ‘the games room’ since the ottoman doubled pretty excellently as a board game table and there was an entire karaoke rig set up _in the walls_. Phil thanked Pepper for the help with the painting, shocked to discover that it was Clint who’d chosen it himself rather than any explicit guidance from Pepper. Whether that was Clint’s personal preference or just excellent reading of Phil’s taste, he wasn’t sure.

 

Tony crowed about his excellent decorating skills, and the mystery as to how they’d avoided Phil knowing about the paint was revealed to be full haz-mat suits. Bruce gave Phil a little framed photograph of the four of them in white plastic suits with bright purple approximations of their uniforms painted sloppily on them - Steve with a big star in the middle, Tony with an arc reactor, Clint with a big H and some chevrons and Bruce with some little ripped shorts painted around his waist. Natasha, who refused to participate in grubby things like manual labour when she didn’t have to, stood to one side with her arms crossed. It was perfect. 

 

Steve hung something on the wall and Phil was invited to reveal what it was, pulling what he assumed was Pepper’s silk scarf away to reveal... a gorgeous painting of Hawkeye, standing heroically, bow drawn against a stormy sky. “It’s perfect,” Phil said, reaching for Clint’s hand and squeezing it. “Thank you, Steve.” 

Steve just beamed back, and they all clinked glasses before being corralled into testing out the karaoke system.

 

Phil pressed his shoulder to Clint’s where they sat on the window seat, watching Tony sing Wind Beneath My Wings, dedicated to his suit and his own personal genius. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you more.”

Clint shrugged and took a sip of the pink champagne Tony had seen fit to bring. “The others helped a lot.” 

“Still," Phil gestured to the room with his own glass, "you actually have pretty good taste.”

Clint turned to look at him slyly. “So you’re gonna listen to my ideas now?”

“Of course. Definitely. Well, more so than before anyway.”

“You sound so sure,” Clint said with a snort.

Phil looked at him and rolled his eyes. “I am. This is great.”

Clint kissed Phil on the cheek and they went back to watching Tony, images of the suit flying on the screen behind him since he’d apparently created his own backing tracks for the system when he set it up.

Clint’s eyes on Tony, he leaned in again to murmur, “You know, I have some ideas for the living room...”

**Author's Note:**

> [This](http://i.imgur.com/xFYhX.jpg) is how I imagine Steve's painting might look (incidentally my favourite picture of Hawkeye ever <3) and the wall colour would be somewhere along [this](http://www.colourlovers.com/palette/1146494/Muze) kind of range.  
>  I thought I'd made up those doorknobs that are like hands but [apparently not](http://thecoolgadgets.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/door-hand-le-knob.jpg)!  
> You can get light-up showerheads on ebay/amazon (I've been tempted in the past).
> 
> Thanks for reading! This was fun to write :)


End file.
